


terra incognita

by hellalujah



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellalujah/pseuds/hellalujah
Summary: or, boys playing hateful music and loving each other.





	terra incognita

**Author's Note:**

> the metal band au no one asked for
> 
> maybe i'll expand this someday WHO KNOWS there are Thoughts
> 
> i'm calling this mature for a couple of mostly non-graphic handies
> 
> enjoy xoxoxoxoxo

It’s an effort to pull his monitors out of his ears with the way his wrists ache, an effort to keep a solid grip on the neck of his bass until he’s able to pass it off to a stage tech. All Porter wants right now is a shower, preferably a scalding one, and then bed.

But first he has to find Mat.

He does this after every show, disappears offstage and into the dark hallways of whatever venue they’re playing. Somehow he always manages to find an excellent place to hide. But Porter’s gotten pretty good at finding him.

He rolls his wrists, flexes his fingers. Winces. He’ll need to wrap them tonight probably. If Mat’s not too out of it he might help but he took off so fast that Porter’s not holding his breath.

It doesn’t take long to find him this time. A tiny shadow curled behind an old mixer, a sub-woofer. Mat’s curled into himself, face in his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. Dillon calls Porter’s name from the end of the hall and Porter waves to let him know he’s found Mat.

“Hi,” Porter murmurs, dropping to the ground. Mat peeps out over his knees and blinks slowly, blearily, like he’s trying to figure out who Porter is for a moment.

“Hi,” he responds hoarsely a second later. His voice is shredded, as it always is after a show, and Porter shoots him a gentle smile.

“You were great,” he whispers, skimming his hand down Mat’s calf. He’s wearing skinny jeans and they look great on him but Porter knows he’ll need to get out of them soon, knows how claustrophobic Mat gets after shows. “You sounded amazing.”

Mat blinks at him again and a tiny smile curls his lips. He nods in thanks and then drops his head back to lean against his knees.

Dillon’s there a moment later, crouching next to Porter and running a gentle hand through Mat’s hair. “Hiya, Matty, you ready to go?”

Mat makes a muffled sound into his legs and sits up a bit again, yawns so expansively that both Porter and Dillon laugh before Dillon leans in to get his arms around Mat’s waist and lift him up. His legs go around Dillon’s hips instinctively, arms around his neck and face burrowing in Dillon’s bare shoulder. Somehow Dillon always goes on stage with a shirt but never seems to come off with one. 

Porter smiles. He loves Dillon and Mat so much, Anton and Hugo too. He’s so lucky.

“Last show,” Dillon’s cooing into Mat’s ear, “you feel like getting wasted?”

Mat makes another muffled sound and Porter can see him shaking his head a bit. Dillon laughs and kisses the shell of Mat’s ear. 

“Feel like getting fucked, then? Ow!”

Porter snorts. Mat’d almost definitely just bitten Dillon. It’s like a post-show ritual by now, their quiet bickering. Just as much as Porter tucking into Mat’s bunk with him is a ritual, as much as Anton or Hugo or Dillon or sometimes all three of them ending up fucking in the venue bathroom while the performance adrenaline is still coursing through them is one too.

A skinny arm wraps around Porter’s waist and he jumps a bit, looks up and Hugo’s grinning at him. His hair’s back up in a messy bun and he looks like he’s already cleaned up a bit. Anton taps Porter’s ass playfully as he breezes past, hooks an arm around Dillon and leans in to nose at Mat’s hair, whisper in his ear. Mat breathes out a little sound that Porter knows is a laugh and Porter lets himself lean into Hugo’s grasp.

His band. His family.

He turns his face into Hugo’s shoulder and smiles.

\---

They don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. They’ve ended their tour in New York and all chipped in for a massive suite in some glittering hotel and Porter’s wiped by the time they get there but not nearly as tired as Mat is. Mat, who’s falling asleep and has to be carried through the hotel lobby and up to their room. Anton’s carrying him now and Dillon’s hanging off Hugo and they stare at Porter expectantly when they get to the elevator until he realizes he’s meant to swipe his keycard to get them up to their floor.

There’re two bathrooms in the suite, thank god, and Porter’s so tired he thinks he could fall asleep on his feet but his joints are aching and he knows if he doesn’t soak away some of the pain tonight it’ll be twice as bad tomorrow. He’s yawning the whole time the tub fills, rubbing blearily at his eyes as the room fills with steam. The sound of the other’s voices drifts in from the other room and he doesn’t bother trying to listen, knows Anton and Hugo and Dillon well enough to know that they’ll likely end up fucking again before going to sleep.

“Can I have a bath with you?”

Porter sits up a bit, not exactly startled but certainly jolted more awake. Mat’s leaning in the doorframe in his underwear and what looks like Dillon’s shirt, eyes half-lidded and dark with exhaustion as he smiles a little weakly at Porter.

Porter gets up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the tub, goes to Mat and hugs him. He looks like he needs it.

They both make it into the tub and neither of them forget to take their clothes off this time - Dillon had been angry for a week about Porter getting bubble bath all over that awful glittery button up of his but Porter thinks it’s probably an improvement. Mat’s eyes are closed, head resting on Porter’s chest, and Porter brushes a hand down his side to make sure he doesn’t pass out and fall asleep in the tub.

Mat doesn’t open his eyes but he makes an impatient little sound and fishes around in the water for Porter’s hand, pulls it into his lap and starts digging his fingers into Porter’s aching wrist.

“You don’t have to do - ah - that,” Porter whispers in Mat’s ear. He knows how tired Mat is, and as amazing as it feels he really doesn’t want Mat to exert himself anymore than he needs to.

“Shut up,” Mat mumbles. Porter smiles and presses a little kiss behind his ear, just below his hairline. Mat’d shaved his head before they’d gone on tour and it’s growing back now; it looks good and Porter tells him often.

Mat hums, presses his fingers into the meat of Porter’s palm. “You can keep doing that,” he murmurs, “if you want.”

Porter snorts and kisses Mat again, a little lower on the column of his neck. Tongues gently at the same spot and then keeps kissing open-mouthed and wet down to Mat’s shoulder. Mat makes a pleased sound and his thumbs press into Porter’s hand in a way that makes his breath catch and a moan slips out against Mat’s skin before he can stop himself.

Mat hums again, lets go of Porter’s right hand and moves on to the left. Porter knows if he could see Mat’s face he would be smiling; they both love this. It’s their own little ritual, when they’re not so tired they just crash the second they get to their hotel or the bus or wherever they’re going. Bathtime and hand massages. Admittedly it’s Porter’s favourite part of the day, just being able to sit with Mat. Sometimes he thinks he enjoys it more than performing.

Mat’s thumbs press firmly into Porter’s fret wrist and Porter gasps against Mat’s shoulder, remembers what he was doing and sucks at Mat’s skin till Mat’s gasping too. Porter smiles again, bites down gentle and tender and Mat breathes out a sweet little moan.

Porter’s right hand is still resting on Mat’s stomach and he lets it drift down through the water until his fingers bump up against Mat’s dick. He’s already hard and Porter tongues at the place his teeth had just dug in as he wraps a hand around Mat.

“‘M not gonna last long,” Mat warns breathlessly. “Tired.”

Porter hums and nuzzles behind Mat’s ear, starts to lazily jerk him off. “S’okay.”

Mat’s still massaging his left hand and Porter’s hard too, dick pressing up against Mat’s back, but right now this is good, this is perfect. The little sounds spilling from Mat’s lips are so sweet and Porter can’t help it when he rolls his hips up a bit, rolls them up again when Mat groans almost inaudibly.

“I’m gonna come in the bath water and it’s gonna be gross,” Mat mumbles, voice still hoarse and breathy. Porter hums again and bites at the side of his neck. Twists his hand and then Mat’s tensing, hissing out a breath through his teeth. 

“You weren’t kidding,” Porter murmurs, amused, and Mat drops his left hand to squirm around until he’s facing Porter. He still looks exhausted, face flushed from the heat of the water and maybe a little from embarrassment. 

“Shut up,” Mat says again before he leans in and kisses Porter. 

Porter is abruptly aware that Mat's been so tired from the shows that they haven't actually kissed in days and he whimpers into Mat's mouth, lets his hands come to rest on Mat's hips. His wrists and fingers already feel so much better, he notes distantly, but then Mat licks into his mouth and he stops thinking. 

Mat palms his dick under the water and he'd almost forgotten he was hard but Mat's hand is wrapped around him and stroking him, so firm and sure and God he loves Mat, loves that he knows exactly how to touch Porter. 

He's panting a little desperately into Mat's mouth and his hand is so tight around him, so good, and before he knows it he's moaning and coming. It's over so fast he's a little dizzy with it but Mat's mouth is gone from his and when Porter opens his eyes Mat's head is hanging and his breathing is laboured. 

“Sorry,” Porter whispers, nosing against Mat's cheek. Mat grunts and his body sags, forehead dropping to rest on Porter’s shoulder. “Wanna get out now?”

Mat hums and Porter thinks he’s going to stand but a pair of hands are pressing into his ribs a second later and Porter instinctively pulls Mat into a hug.

The bath water has barely cooled when Porter finally manages to sit up and pull up the plug. Mat’s still leaning heavily on him and he thinks for a second that he’s sleeping but he sits back on his heels and blinks dizzily.

“Can you walk?”

Mat nods slowly and grips the edges of the tub, winces as he heaves himself up. He must be so sore, Porter can see it in the way his shoulders stay dipped, the way his head is ducked. Porter gets up with some effort and kisses Mat’s forehead before he reaches out and grabs one of the plush hotel towels. It’s times like these he’s glad they can afford all this. 

Porter’s happy to be with them all. He’s happier than he’s ever been in his life, surrounded by the people he loves the most. He’s so lucky to have all that he does and he’s smiling when he turns back to wrap Mat in the towel.

“I can do it myself,” Mat grumbles, but he’s flushing like he’s pleased and Porter kisses his forehead again.

“I know,” he murmurs.

He manages to get them both dried off and they don’t bother with clothes, just stay wrapped in towels as they pad back out into the hotel room. Mat’s leaning heavily against Porter’s side and Porter’s steering them toward the second bedroom when Hugo pokes his head out of the master suite and smiles.

“We’re not doing anything in here,” he says, gesturing behind him. “Come cuddle?”

Mat makes a needy little noise and then he’s pulling away from Porter, taking a couple of steps before he faceplants into Hugo’s bare chest. Hugo laughs, delighted, and Porter rolls his eyes and follows them in.

They get Mat tucked up in the bed first and Dillon’s the one to push Porter under the sheets next. Mat automatically curls into Porter’s chest and Porter thinks he must fall asleep the second his eyes close because his body goes limp and his breath evens out almost immediately. Porter nuzzles into Mat’s hair and closes his eyes as well, barely even registers when someone - he thinks maybe Hugo - spoons up behind him and several sets of arms drape over his and Mat’s bodies.

Porter dozes off seconds later, smiling into Mat’s hair.


End file.
